


The sun is setting on him

by eliocentrica



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Depression, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione is Draco's only advocate, Memories, Mentioned Narcissa Black Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Self-Reflection, more tags and warnings in each chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliocentrica/pseuds/eliocentrica
Summary: Draco is sentenced to life in Azkaban. What has become of his life? Does he wither away? Does he fight back? Does his mind fall apart?For the most part it doesn't go well.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 13





	1. Prologue – Christmas in Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of instances taken out of Draco's life in Azkaban. When I started writing I thought it could be a collection of one shots but then a sort of plot made an appearence between the lines so I decided to post it as one (multi-chapter) piece.  
> Each chapter has its own rating, warning and tags so please be mindful.

Chapter Rating: Teen & Up (not sure swearing qualifies for a Mature rating?)

Chapter Tags: diary entry, self reflection, Emotional hurt/No comfort

**A/N** : This is a song called “X-mas in Hell” by Sixx:AM rewritten in parts so I can adapt it to my storyline and so I can set a gloomy mood. So this is a disclaimer: besides a few minor edits, I did not write this text.  
I suggest you listen the song if you're curious.

December twenty-fifth, nineteen ninety-seven

Wiltshire

  
  


Merry Christmas.

That's what people say at Christmas, right?

Except normally they have someone to say it to. They have friends and family, and they haven't been laying naked under a Christmas tree clutching their forearm like an insane person in an empty manor in Wiltshire.

They aren't out of their minds, they aren't writing in a diary, and they're definitely not drowning their pain in bottles of Firewhiskey trying to forget a tattoo which still haunts their nightmares.

Nobody would believe the shit that happens inside my head, it's haunted. Now I've come out a loser from the war, it seems like a sick play that I saw in a theatre somewhere.

I haven't spoken to a single person today. I thought 'why should I ruin their fucking Christmas?'

  
  


I've started a new diary and this time I have a few new reasons.

One, I have no friends left.

Two, so I can read back and remember what I did the day before.

And three, so if I die, at least I leave a nice little suicide note of my life.

A year ago, I could've killed somebody. Or better yet, myself.

  
  


It's just me and you, diary... Welcome to my fucking life.


	2. Chapter 1 - Never again will I be your fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Rating: General audiences  
> Chapter Tags: memories, Wizengamot, injustice, resentment

Draco Malfoy is sitting on the floor of his cell in Azkaban with a short piece of parchment crumpled in his fist.

His Mother's short letter has stoked the dying fire inside his soul. She has reminded him that he is a Malfoy and Malfoys always find a way out of dire situations. She has implied that she is working on alliances to break him out.

He should be ready when the time comes so he decides to reorganise his thoughts before Occlumency completely escapes him along with the rest of his magic because of the dampening spell imposed onto him since he was captured a few days after the Final Battle.

It has been a few months since he was sentenced to spending his whole life in prison. He really thought his Mother would be able to bribe a few members of the Wizengamot, and sway the votes of others, the ones who had been secretly showing their support to the Dark Lord's cause before His demise.

But during the trial nobody showed any mercy to him. The Aurors questioned him by throwing magical blows at him, as if they were punching him, kicking him, beating him up. At least he wasn't the only Death Eater being treated that way, he tried to cheer himself up. No treatment of favour in any way had he received since the day he was captured.

The Minister himself, Scrimgeour, wanted to make an example out of him. A young life wasted forever because he was forced to follow He Who Must Not Be Named. Such magical potential from one of the most ancient families in Britain, a student with top marks who could have contributed in enhancing Wizarding Britain, withering away in Azkaban until the end of his miserable life.

Draco Malfoy was made to be the face of the Death Eater circle. Every witch and wizard in Britain was made to hate him for what he represented. And everybody thought he should be severely punished for his war crimes. Because _that_ would finally help society put the Second Wizarding War in the past and everything would all go back to normal.

Everybody would go back to normal except for those who were Kissed by Dementors without a trial, like his Father. This happened in the early days, before Scrimgeour was appointed Minister of Magic and he commenced Wizengamot trials for prisoners. He was the one who banned the Dementors from Britain. Never again would they trust such creatures who helped the second rise in power of the Darkest Wizard of Modern Times.

Everybody would go back to normal except for those who participated in the Final Battle on both sides. Too much loss and too much pain to be able to process their trauma as swiftly as expected by the Ministry.

But it was especially Draco who will never go back to living a normal life. That's why his Mother forgot about her manners and her composure when he was dragged away from the court on the day he was sentenced to life in Azkaban. She raised from her seat in the audience and he saw her face. She was as desperate as though her entire life was going to end. But really, it was only him who was lost forever without her.

Draco pushes the image of his crying Mother into a leather-bound book and he pushes the book into a shelf of the Restricted Section inside the Library of his mind. He takes a deep breath, trying to push away the sorrow he is feeling.

One of the guards monitoring his Block walks in front of his cell and stops there. Draco locks eyes with him and tries to contain his rage.

The guard sneers. “I hope you aren't trying to conjure anything or there will be severe consequences” he says menacingly.

Draco thinks that the guard can't be much skilled if he thinks he can just produce a spell without his wand, when he's being starved and with the enforcement of magic dampening spells. He could try to make the guard move closer and steal his wand... but how could he get out the fortress of Azkaban without any accomplices from the inside _and_ from the outside?

Draco stands up and moves to his bed to lay down. He doesn't respond to the guard's provocation. Everybody expects him to try something so they'll have an excuse to execute him.

No, Draco will prove everybody wrong by abiding to prison rules, by suffering through any further abuse the Aurors or the guards will inflict upon him. Everybody will see that he has been tamed and that he isn't so scary any more. And on that day when they lower their guard, he'll have a plan in place to escape.

On that day, they'll see he is nobody's fool.


	3. Chapter 2 - Etched upon my memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Rating: Teen & up  
> Chapter Tags: self reflection, Emotional hurt/No comfort

September 20th 2001 on the top right. The whole page is filled with a picture of a bright smiling face framed by curly brown hair.

Draco is clutching The Daily Prophet. It has been a few weeks since last time he managed to bribe a guard into smuggling the newspaper to his cell. This is one of the few things he puts efforts in while trying to stay sane during his imprisonment. The Prophet allows him to gauge what's going on outside Azkaban and trying to have it smuggled to him allows him to gauge if he is losing his manipulation skills as time passes.

_If today's the 20_ _th_ _, then yesterday was her birthday_ , Draco reflects. It has been a few months since the last time he had an issue which featured her in the front page.

Draco looks at the picture more closely because, as much as the Golden Girl is appraised, surely her birthday doesn't warrant a newspaper front page. _She has had 22 of those so far, so not really breaking news, is it?_ He tries to convince himself.

And then he notices that she's showing a ring with a bright red ruby on it to the Weasley girl. It's on her ring finger of her left hand. His body freezes suddenly and his heart skips a few beats.

Draco tries to bring up his Occlumency walls. He needs to go back to feeling nothing. He needs to push her back into a dark corner of his mind.

She needs to be away from reach in his mind just as she is in the real world. So he balls the paper up and tosses it out through the bars of his cell and it hits the opposite wall. It bounces back slightly and lands in the middle of the corridor, flapping open on the front page again for everyone to see.

He doesn't worry about the guards finding The Prophet in the corridor. They'll use it as another excuse to abuse him. It's easy because they know he can't fight back.

He doesn't care if they'll hex him, he actually hopes they'll hurt him because the pain will help him focus on something else, something other than her. With his magic being repressed, his Occlumency has almost completely faded. He isn't able to keep in check the compartments he has created over the years; the walls are cracked and crumbling. And so his feelings have crept up from his imaginary Restricted Section of the library which is his memory.

He can't take his eyes off that smiling face. _She seems genuinely happy._ Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are bright, her hair is wild as always. _She's glowing._ A pang in his chest pulls him back to his task. He needs to close the book titled Hermione Granger or he'll be flooded with feelings and he'll have to start from the beginning again: one step forward, two steps back.

He pictures himself filing the book back on its shelf and then walking out of the Restricted Section. He closes the gate and locks it. He turns his back to it and walks away. He should be in control now, so he opens his eyes. His gaze falls back to the newspaper crumpled outside his cell. He would like to toss it aside but it's too far away for reach, even if the magical barrier allowed his arm through the bars, which it doesn't.

Her ring is taunting him, shining so bright in the coloured picture. It's telling him that she has moved on while he can't. Because he is stuck in a fucking cell. Because he was too proud to accept her help during the trial. Because he thought he could take on the Wizengamot on his own. Society wanted retribution, they wanted a symbol to mark the victory of the Chosen One against the Dark Lord. And he was chosen to pay the price of every crime committed during the war.

And despite that, she tried to rescue him. She tried to present evidence that he wasn't committed to the Dark Lord's cause as he had presented himself to be. She had an insight into his soul that he hadn't realised before. It intrigued him that she would know so much about him even though he had always kept his distance.

She requested a meeting with him during the trial. She wanted to convince him that she could help him and all he could do was sneer at her. He could see that she was sad to be visiting him in the Ministry cells. Her expression showed compassion and her ways were gentle. It made him feel weak and so he resorted to hiding behind a façade of arrogance.

Their meeting ended with him saying that he would never let a Mudblood help him even if it meant rotting in jail until the end of his days. At that time, he didn't believe for a second that he would spend much time in Azkaban at all. But he couldn't see past his anger and, just like that, he managed to push her away forever and sealed his own fate.

He still remembers her face when she left. A scowl creased her brow—she was evidently trying to keep her own frustration in. At the same time she must have realised that her battle with him was lost because a single tear dropped from one of her eyes. She must have known that he would lose too, but to a much greater scale.

The years he has spent isolated in his cell have given him enough time to think back on that moment repeatedly. As much as he has tried to resist it and to suppress his emotions, he isn't the cold Slytherin Prince he used to be in school. He is aware that he is just a lost soul now. Not much of his personality remains from his days as a Death Eater or a school bully.

Draco looks once again at the picture in the Prophet. Something in her eyes keeps haunting him. _I've been trying to escape you but I know there is no way to chase you from my mind_.

Not imprisonment, seclusion or abuse, but his own mind broke him.


	4. Chapter 3 - I live for your smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Rating: Teen & up  
> Chapter Tags: memories, Wizengamot, Hermione is Draco's only advocate, depression, Emotional hurt/No comfort

The wind is howling through the corridor outside his cell. Judging by the frequent loud cracking sounds that are coming from outside, there's a raging thunderstorm going on.

It's freezing cold and humid. Draco Malfoy is shaking and his cotton prison uniform isn't much help in this weather. He pulls his bed cover tighter around his frame trying unsuccessfully to warm up. He'll have to find a way to bribe one of the guards into spelling a warming charm in his cell.

If only they weren't suppressing his magic, he could flick his fingers and conjure a small blue fire and warm up a bit. That's a trick he learnt during his first year in Hogwarts after watching Granger use it on Snape thinking no one would notice.

He went to the Library a couple of days after that infamous Quiddich match and he researched fire spells until he found the book previously borrowed by her. He spent weeks practising it with Crabbe and Goyle. He wanted to learn it just to show off his magical abilities to his friends in the Common Room and to establish himself as the leader of his Year group.

He finally managed to produce it wandless during summer at the Manor, when he was alone and bored out of his mind so he put all his efforts into something that would pass the time.

He would use the fire trick when his friends and him walked to Hogsmeade during winter, and also every so often when they had parties in the Common Room—he would flick his fingers and the small blue fire would appear, he would flick his fingers again and it would disappear. The girls were especially impressed. That's how he got to snog some girl for the first time in Second Year.

Curled up in his bed, Draco sighs. He is aware that thinking of kissing someone is going to lead his thought process into dangerous territories.

He tries to ignore the fact that he can't feel his fingers or toes. He tries to focus back on the feeling of warmth that the blue fire gave him when he was 12. Perhaps the idea of warmth conjured in his mind will seep through the rest of his body so that it will stop shaking eventually.

Instead, his treacherous imagination forms images of a short girl with huge front teeth and monstrous frizzy hair and her nose stuck in the air. Draco feels a pang of longing in his chest. He has given up on his mental compartmentalisation a while ago so he knows his bloody feelings have free reign over him now.

Her hazel brown eyes come to the forefront of his mind.

At the beginning there were dark circles around them. They showed the fatigue of the War which had just finished. But she still stood with squared shoulders in front of the Wizengamot to testify in his favour. Draco didn't understand why at that time.

His parents and he had been captured a few days after the Final Battle, when the Ministry was still sorting out their ranks and their motives. His father was kissed by Dementors on the spot. That made him freeze in fear just like when he received his Mark. He couldn't process it.

At the same time, his mother lost it and she tried to fight the Aurors on her own, shooting hexes and pushing Draco behind her slim body to protect him. Of course, they held no chance of making it out alive if not by surrendering, so his mother stopped fighting and she gave both of them up to the Aurors.

Thanks to their cunning and connections within the Ministry, they would surely find a way out of Azkaban, they both thought. Narcissa was freed after just one hearing, thanks to the testimony of one Harry “Saviour of the Wizarding World” Potter. Whereas he was put into isolation just like a couple other Death Eaters who were considered high-risk convicts. And he suffered the physical and psychological abuse, otherwise known as _questioning_ , from the Aurors and the Wizengamot. Apparently he is still scornful about all of that...

A few months after the beginning of his trial, Draco realised that the people in purple robes would not believe anything that would come out of his mouth. Not when he tried to explain that he was forced into the ranks of the Dark Lord against his will. Not when he tried to account for the operations he participated in the last year in the hopes of helping the Ministry sort out past incidents. Not when he revealed the names of Dark Lord supporters within the Ministry to point out that they needed to purge their ranks in order to start over with transparency.

So he decided that fighting the trial wasn't worth it any more. He relied completely on his mother's ability to sway the judgment by pulling strings from the outside.

But _she_ just wouldn't leave it alone.

Her brown eyes would look at him with pity in them and fury bubbled up in his chest every time he noticed her. He couldn't bare the thought of being caged and powerless in front of her. He couldn't withstand the fact that she was trying to rescue him from a corrupt system whose goal was to make Draco Malfoy an example by condemning him for every war crime they could think of.

But most of all, he couldn't look into those hazel eyes and then feel a bud of hope blossoming in his heart.

Once Granger told him she made a request to visit him in Azkaban but they wouldn't let her. So she convinced them to let her speak to Draco privately before one of his hearings. He wouldn't talk to her, of course. So she resigned to having a monologue while he forced himself to look at her with contempt.

She tried to explain her master plant to free him. She asked him to cooperate with her, so they could build his defence against the trial. But he had tried that already and it didn't work. He was convinced that his only way out was his mother's leverage on the Wizengamot and its corrupt members.

She pleaded him, she told him that she knew that there was good in him, that she didn't forget the time he saved Harry's and her lives when they were brought to the Manor. She even told him she forgave him for not stopping Bellatrix in his drawing room. And in that moment Draco exploded.

He shouted at her that she didn't know a single thing about him and that he enjoyed seeing his Aunt carve The Word in her skin, because that would forever be a rightful reminder of what she is: a worthless Mudblood.

But Draco didn't really mean any of it. In fact, that memory is one of the most shameful which he holds. But he thought that projecting his own rage onto her was the only way she would stop trying to help him. Hermione left the interrogation room without uttering one more word, with the saddest expression on her face, holding back the tears in her eyes.

Needless to say, ten minutes later she was back in the court room defending him. Draco felt such a blow to his heart that he wasn't able to look away from the floor the whole duration of that hearing.

He didn't deserve her compassion.

He didn't deserve her help.

And most certainly he doesn't deserve to still feel any sort of attachment to her.

After the Wizengamot sentenced him and he was being escorted out of the court room, Draco caught Hermione's gaze. She tried to smile, as if to say that nothing was lost yet. But her sorrowful eyes betrayed her.

“I'll remember the real you” she mouthed to him from the audience stands.

Another thunder cracks in the sky outside Azkaban. It's so loud that it brings Draco back to reality. He is still shaking, enveloped in cold.

He pulls a worn newspaper clipping from under the mattress. With a finger he softly touches the face in the picture. It was taken after she announced a new Act to protect the rights of house-elves.

“I live for your smile” he whispers before tucking the photo back under his mattress.


	5. Chapter 4 - How can I blame you when it's me I can't forgive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Rating: Mature  
> Chapter Tag: nightmare  
> Trigger Warnings: Short graphic mentions of torture, panic attack

Draco is back at the Manor. He is in the garden and the peacocks are running around, screaming as usual. He hasn't been home in a while now. It's a nice feeling being surrounded by familiar things, no need to watch out for your back constantly. He decides to take a walk towards the grounds he used as Quidditch pitch when he was a child.

The stoned path is winding and longer than he remembers. He steps through a tall marble archway into the Drawing Room. He instantly regrets it because there's a girl screaming in there. But his feet are heavy, he can't move.

There's Aunt Bella laughing maniacally. She's bending over the screaming girl, carving a slur in her forearm. He can't help the girl.

He shouldn't want to help the girl. What would Father think if he found out?

A shiver goes down his spine. What would the Dark Lord do to him if he found out?

His heartbeat is rocketing. He must calm down. He tries to build up his Occlumency shields to keep out those emotions. He can't. Occlumency hasn't worked in a while because of the magic dampening spells and the malnutrition which comes with residing in Azkaban for years.

The panic attack is coming. He needs to wake up.

He tries to bite his tongue but he doesn't feel the pain. He needs to wake up.

He cannot be trapped in this nightmare during a panic attack. He needs to wake up.

He tries to focus on slowing down his breathing but Hermione is still screaming. He needs to wake up.

It's completely dark. The smell of blood is strong in the air. He needs to wake up.

All he can hear is the pain in her voice. He needs to wake up.

He knows he can't move because he's dreaming.

Someone cast the Cruciatus Curse. It's his voice bouncing back from the walls in the Drawing Room. He is in pain and writhing on the floor. It's his fault.

He deserves it for following in line. He should have found a way to help her. It was his fault.

At least the pain is making up for it. He'll endure it for as long as it takes.

His muscles are splitting. His tendons are being pulled the wrong way but it was his fault.

Something's constricting his chest. He can't breath. It's his fault.

He can't breath. It's _his_ fault.

He can't breathe and he's falling down in darkness. He feels nothing.


	6. Chapter 5 - I'm going to hold you again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Rating: General audiences  
> Chapter Tags: Hurt/Comfort, songfic
> 
> A/N: This chapter was heavily inspired by Phil Collins' “I Wish It Would Rain Down”. In the hopes of making it as emotional as possible, I thought it was a good idea to use some of the lyrics, which have been modified to fit with the narration.

Several years of solitary imprisonment have deeply changed the man once proud to be called Draco Malfoy.

Without Occlumency as his defence, the trauma inflicted during his late teenage years, during his trial and at the beginning of his incarceration has left his psyche scarred. With his air of smugness gone, his posture is slouching. Arrogance has permanently left his voice to be replaced by hesitance. His hair is long and ragged, his beard unkempt and his prison robe tattered. He is just a shadow of the young man he used to be.

He lives with the shame of having fallen short of the Malfoy name and legacy. Possibly this is why he has been refusing visits from his Mother in recent years.

At the same time, he lives with his troubled conscience, which resurfaced a while after his Occlumency walls broke down completely. This was a consequence of the magic dampening spell cast on him but also of the unlimited time he has spent on self-reflection.

When society “went back to normal” and people stopped talking about the War, his story was pushed aside and his life was forgotten. That's why he has long stopped trying to bribe guards into bringing him a copy of The Daily Prophet. If nobody cares about his unjust sentence any more, he would just spare himself the hurt of being reminded that _she_ doesn't care either.

He lives as drudge. Day after day is meaningless.

So it comes as an unpleasant surprise when a guard opens the door to his cell, binds his wrists behind his back and orders him to step outside. Draco thinks this might be the day in which he is going to receive the Kiss. Perhaps someone got tired of wasting magical resources on his containment. He doesn't care. Actually, it would be better that withering away in a cell.

He complies with the guard's order, lowering his gaze, giving up completely. He is lead out of the Isolation Block and onto the upper floors, where the common areas of the prison are. Nobody is looking at him with interest or reverence any more, no more whispers are heard when he passes by groups of people. He takes a look around to confirm that he is being utterly ignored.

When they finally reach their destination, the guard pushes him into an interrogation room and locks it from the outside. Draco freezes on the spot. A short, curly-haired woman dressed in an elegant periwinkle tunic is pacing the length of the room lost in her thoughts. He looks at her and feels an old scar hurting in his heart.

Suddenly aware of another presence in the room, Hermione Granger turns to face him anxiously. She opens her mouth to speak but no sound comes out. So she clears her throat and tries again.

“I think we should sit down to have this conversation” her tone is firm while she points at the table separating them, two metal chairs on opposite sides.

Draco doesn't move. His wrists are unbound. He is finding it difficult to process what is happening. He is also partly sure that he is in fact dreaming because there is no way in the whole magic and Muggle world that War Heroine Hermione Granger would be visiting him _years_ after his trial ended.

She takes a seat first and offers a nervous smile as encouragement for him to do the same.

Draco remembers he used to have manners once, so he slowly approaches the table and pulls the empty chair from it. The scratching sound made by the chair on the stone floor is the only thing that breaks the silence. Draco sits down, his back curved forward and his gaze low.

Hermione realises that he needs to be prompted for everything, like he has no will of his own. _They broke him_ , she thinks ad she feels incensed and heavy-hearted simultaneously.

She decides it's a good idea to start with the reason she's there. Hopefully he'll listen and he'll be open to accepting her request.

She sighs and starts talking. “After the trial I never meant to see you again. At first, I was ashamed I couldn't help you so I stayed out of sight.” Hermione's gaze drops to the floor for a moment.

“You said you didn't want me to help you, that you didn't need me in your life. And I didn't want to deal with your disappointment and especially with your pain.” Hermione can no longer stop her hands from fidgeting. “I tried to push any thought of you aside and move on with my life. I focussed on my work at the Ministry. I got engaged to Ron.”

Draco's eyes search her hands and he finally notices that they are bare. No wedding band, no engagement ring. Her finger nails bitten almost to the bone.

“I could only keep myself distracted for so long and after a while I started wondering why I gave up on you after the trial. I had started fighting for the rights of magic creatures, then, and I was the thorn on the side of the Department's Head. I wasn't afraid to fight for the underdog, so why didn't I keep on fighting for you?” Hermione's voice raises at the question and prompts Draco to look at her.

“Nobody else cared about your life and I told you I would remember you but you haven't heard from me in years.” Hermione's voice breaks. Her hands are sweating. “I am sorry for abandoning you.”

Draco forgets how to breathe. The Golden Girl is apologising to him? This can't be real. He bites the inside of his cheek to see if it hurts for real. It does and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth grounds him. He is completely engaged in her monologue.

Hermione takes a deep breath to continue. “I never meant to cause you pain. I know you have been hurting all along and it's eating me through every night and day. And I know I let you down.” Tears start falling from Hermione's eyes. She is losing her composure bit by bit.

Draco wishes he would deserve her faith in him. Because if he did, he could hope she would allow him to touch her hands gently and he would tell her she has never had anything to apologise for.

Hermione's gaze is searching for some kind of reaction in Draco's face and she moves her hands towards his on the table. “I hope you can forgive me...”

Draco closes the distance between their hands until their fingertips are brushing. He leans on to the feeling of her soft skin, his mind otherwise blank. He feels as if a burden has been lifted from his chest. She is real. This is not his mind giving in to insanity.

When he speaks, his voice is croaky. “I was just waiting on your sign.”

Hermione smiles, relieved to see that he is reacting positively to her attempt at mending bridges.

“If you'll let me, I would like to have the Wizengamot reopen your case and have them consider putting a stop at your incarceration. Your trial was unjust and you were just a scapegoat for Scrimgeour. I will prove that you were quite different from the Death Eater they portrayed you to be.”

Draco shakes his head, “Nobody will listen.”

Hermione's eyes shine with a new fire in them and she speaks haughtily, “I am Hermione Jean Granger, War Heroine and best friend to Harry Potter, Vanquisher of Voldemort, the Darkest Wizard of Modern Times. The Ministry will listen to me!” she concludes with a squeeze to Draco's hands.

Draco sees how determined she is and that she genuinely cares about him. For the first time in a long time, he feels hope and finds a new meaning to his existence. He may actually be able to get out of Azkaban with her help.

Smiling he says “Thank you” just before the door is unlocked and a different guard drags him out of the room and back to the Isolation Block. His spends is way back to his cell lost in a daze, not sure how to process the turn of events.

As soon as the binding charms are lifted from him and he comes back to himself. The guard has left already, he is alone again. He pulls an old piece of parchment from under his mattress. And there she is, her face still glowing in the picture, forever fixed in time since the spell has long faded from the newspaper clipping.

_I know in my heart that I'm going to hold you again._ Draco thinks while caressing the picture.


	7. Chapter 6 - Let go of what I've done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Rating: Teen & up  
> Chapter Tags: Hermione is Draco's only advocate, self reflection, songfic  
> A/N: This chapter is inspired by Linkin Park “What I've done”. You'll read some lines from the song, but they've been tweaked slightly for cohesion in the narration.
> 
> Trigger warning: emaciation.

Draco Malfoy is sitting on the floor of his cell, his back against the wall, absorbing the warmth from the stone slabs.

He was moved to an outer block of the prison in the morning. And for the first time in several years, he was able to feel the sun shining outside Azkaban's heavy walls. Of course, no light could come in because this cell has no windows, like his previous one.

However, what this cell does have is a mirror above the sink. He has been avoiding it all day. He doesn't care to see for himself what many years of solitary confinement have done to his appearance. Hermione's sad expression has been a telltale every time they've met to work his case in the past months.

Now, as the sun is setting and his cell is becoming colder by the minute, his heart is fluttering with anticipation.

He is due to appear before the Wizengamot at precisely nine o'clock. It's the last of three hearings where Hermione has been fighting for his case. She told him that they are going to evaluate him tonight and decide whether he has actually repented.

What can he say to convince a group of old wizards and witches that he deserves a second chance?

> I've drawn regret from the truth of a thousand lies.
> 
> Put to rest what you thought of me while I clean this slate with the hands of uncertainty. So let mercy come and wash away what I've done.
> 
> I'll face myself to cross out what I became, I'll rebuild myself and let go of what I did.

  
  


A guard suddenly opens the door to his cell and Draco is forced to stop his musings.

The guard is masked and hooded. No wand in sight. They don't speak to Draco. They just place a soft package on the bed. Then, they point at Draco and at the sink, a sign he should start cleaning up and get ready for the hearing.

When the door is shut, he finally gets up from the floor and walks to the sink to wash himself. The water is cold of course and all the warmth he absorbed from the stone is gone in a matter of seconds while he dabs his body with a wet towel.

Finally, he takes the plunge and puts his head under the sink to wash his hair. He takes deep breaths to steady himself and fight the cold seeping inside him. On the plus side, this is making his mind sharper than it usually is. It's somehow invigorating.

He dabs his face with the wet towel and he faces the mirror at last.

His hair is quite long and tangled. He realises with a twinge of grief that he looks like his Father at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, before he was Kissed.

He needs to convince Hermione to give him a hair cut before the hearing, otherwise people won't see him as Draco. They'll just see Malfoy, the youngest Death Eater, murderer of Albus Dumbledore. Wait, no, Potter already cleared him of that years ago.

Exactly on what accounts has he been in Azkaban for nearly seven years, then?

It's the echo of Hermione's arguments in his mind.

In the mirror, he sees that his eyes are still grey, but they've lost their shine. There are dark circles around them. His jaw appears even more prominent compared to his hollow cheeks. His shoulders bones and ribs poke his skin, as if trying to get out, his muscle mass has been lost after years of inactivity, confined in a 3x2 meters prison cell.

His brow is furrowed. He's feeling the tension knotting up his stomach. _It's time to face the world_ , Draco thinks gripping tightly the sides of the sink.

After one more moment staring into his reflection, he turns around to open the package. It contains a pair of trousers, a white shirt and a set of new robes, black with silver hems, tailor-made. He puts everything on and the clothes hang loose on his body. They would probably fit him perfectly in a different life, where he would be married to a Lady Malfoy, living at the Manor and working his way up at the Ministry of Magic to become Chief Warlock or Minister.

He takes another look at himself in the mirror and scoffs at the thought of being Chief Warlock. He's going to be standing in a cage in court in a few hours.

Something's itching at the back of his head. He moves his hand beneath the neckline of his robes and pulls out a piece of parchment. His first thought is throwing it away, it's just a tag. But then, the robes do look tailor-made, so he decides to take a closer look.

There's something scribbled on the parchment and it's Hermione's handwriting. His breath catches in his throat. No messages are allowed to reach him outside of the Interrogation Room where he's met her in the past months to prepare for today.

Draco reads the note. “I remembered you, now I see you.” It's a lifeline.

He takes a deep breath and looks straight at the mirror to compose his expression to be transparent but resolute.

He's ready. And whatever pain may come, tonight this ends. I'm forgiving what I did.

**Author's Note:**

> Now that I'm posting this story, I'm realising why I wrote it. I've been reading so many Dramione fics from Hermione's POV that I apparently needed a deep dive into Draco's head. Well, then... it's out there now if someone else feels the same as me (and do let me know!). Thanks for reading.


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